


Mood Changer

by katie_wilson



Category: Monty Python RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 06:16:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11640666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katie_wilson/pseuds/katie_wilson
Summary: John Cleese's boredom, which started during the third season of Flying Circus, continues even after the Pythons were told to do a few plays in America. The only person, who can make him feel better is Michael "the Nice Guy" Palin. What can he do other than to put together a to-do list for a typical American teenager?





	Mood Changer

_John was always fond of Michael and it was visible to the others, for John favoured Michael's ideas more frequently than anyone else. Thanks to Michael's "nice and jolly" nature, he didn't notice anything, which played in John's favour. But what was worse about all of this? John had no idea about his little preference either._

_It was one day on their first North American tour, when Michael noticed that something isn't right. John was constantly feeling down and it felt like he was going to fall asleep a minute they didn't have to work..._

 

John laid back in his chair and sighed loudly. "Are we finished yet? I'd like to get back to my hotel room and relax a tad."

"We've just started, John," said Eric in an annoyed tone. Even he was aware of the change in the tall man's behaviour - and he was quite the reserved man. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I am. Just get on with it. Where's Michael anyroad?" questioned John, looking around the hotel's garden. The place was chosen by Terry Gilliam - it was obvious, since he loved the diversion of colours and was intetested in the nature, which surrounded them. 

"He said he will arrive later. He forgot the keys to his hotel room in the theatre we were in yesterday, so he had to get it. Otherwise he would have to sleep with someone from our troupe," Terry Jones answered, a warm-hearted laugh followed his statement. John could only nod his head and listen to the others talking about their excitement from the tour.

He would be more happy to see Michael here. Even Graham was here and that put paid on finding out that this was quite important meeting. It turned out it was only about the promotion of their shows, but still, it was a big part of their playing. They knew pretty much nothing about marketing and about all of these things, so right when Jonesy suggested they should simply pass it on their producer, nobody had anything against it. That gave them much of the needed free time and so while the other Pythons stayed in the garden, telling each other tales they heard somewhere, John stood up and staggered to his hotel room. However, something unexpected waited for him in front of his door. 

"Hey, Jack," said Michael in a mockery voice. 

"Oh, sod off. I'm not in the mood." The tall man surprised himself by walking past his friend and swiftly pushing his door open. However, Mike was as fast and sneaky as him, and John could only bat his eyelashes as Michael stood in the middle of his room. 

"What were you talking about, while I desperately searched for my keys?" Michael asked. 

John sighed heavily, but looking at the face of his friend, he couldn't tell him to clear off that easily. "The main topic was you and your keys and then the shows we're about to play." 

"Oh, well, that's great isn't it? I'm excited as well!" exclaimed Michael and stumbled closer to John. "But you're not as happy as I thought you'd be. Is something wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong with me! Why are you all going for the answer? I'm simply tired," sighed the tall man. 

"That's it? There's sure more than meets the eye, is there?"

"Michael, please, just let me be," John emphasized and laid down on his bed. It was such a relief for him that they didn't have to share hotel rooms, but he saw that Michael wasn't going to leave his apartment soon.

"John, you're not definitely in your best mood," pointed out Michael. "In fact, you're being almost always nark lately. Therefore, I put together a list of things you should try in those two days we're staying here." Michael smiled and withdrew a paper out of his back pocket.

John shot the youngster a confused daze and doubtfully took the paper from him. "Ride a bike, trash a vase, eat a whole watermelon by yourself... Mike, that's not the wisest thing to do. _Any_ of this isn't. How about you get lost, leave me in my room and allow me to wallow in my thoughts?" 

"Sorry, mate. I won't leave, until you smash that vase across the room," snickered the youngster and crossed his arms. 

"Mike, I really don't want to do it and you won't persuade me with anything. I'm completely fine," retorted John, taking Michael by his shoulders and led him out of his room. 

"If you do it, I'll help you with the other things," demanded Michael. John stopped dragging him across the floor and turned Michael towards him. 

"You won't shut that bloody gob of yours, will ya?" It was visible that John was getting aggravated with Michael. "You really want me to do all of these things. Okay, there's me knocking the vase from the table." John darted in front of the table he was talking about and with one fast movement hit a beautifully painted vase, which caused the vase falling down and breaking in a few large pieces. 

A short silence was followed by Michael's laughter and clapping. "I am pleased to be your guide through the bucket list of Jack Cheese." 

"Okay, okay, get on with it. And don't call me that!" 

"Shall I call you Johnny-baby, or what?" snickered the younger man and was greeted by a light punch in the shoulder. "Right. Read the second thing!"

John looked in the paper. "Ride a bike. Mike, you know I can't even get on the saddle!" 

"That's why it's written here." Michael snatched John's arm and ran from John's hotel room back in the garden. The other Pythons cleared off the place and no one was there - after all, the sun was behind the horizon and people were returning back to their rooms. And there they were, trying to find a bike that wasn't attached to a pole. However, it looked like they won't succeed. 

"Hm, I think we're cornered here. Anyroad, what's the next point?" asked Michael, rubbing his unshaved face. 

John did as he was told and answered. "Steal something."

Michael clapped his hands together. "Well, would you look at that? That plays in our favour. Just find one that's not properly attached and cut the rope with the key to your room." 

"I'm not stealing a bike just because you told me to!" argued John, but was immediately silenced by Michael putting his hand on his mouth. 

"Belt up, will you? And yes, you are going to do it, because _you_ want it."

"Oh, and how exactly?" 

"I took your wallet and I'm not giving it back, until I see you trying to ballance on that bicycle."

John was fuming by now, but adhered the quest he was given. "That's blackmailing, do you realize that?" He was fumbling with the key in his hand to turn it into a position at least acceptable for cutting. 

"I do realize that and I'm quite enjoying the power you let me have." 

"You rat. I'll give you a good trashing for this one." The tall man kneeled on his knees for what seemed like an eternity. He was convinced that it was not physically possible, but as he was going to say it out loud, the rope around the handlebars snapped and freed the bike. 

"There we go." Michael reacted the first. He took the bicycle and with small difficulties, he jumped on the saddle and slowly drove through the grass on the opposite side of the garden, John rushing after him. When Michael had to stop because of a wall, he pointed at it and then his hand landed on John's arm. 

The tall man backed away almost immediately. "I feel like this isn't the brightest of ideas. I can't even sit on it!" 

"Just put your tall legs over-" 

"Michael, I _know_ how to do it, I'm just... I don't know, I don't want to do it. It was worth a try, but nothing came out of it." John lowered his head and turned around, but he was stopped by Michael holding his shoulder. 

"Man up a tad. Don't even worry; I'm always behind you and if you fall, there's grass under you." Michael's words and tone of his voice could persuade everyone to do anything he wishes, and John was so fascinated by Michael's enthusiasm for teaching him to ride a bike that he gave up and returned. "After you get on it, lean on the wall with your closer hand." John was desperate to follow his friend's instruction and did it as soon as he sat on the saddle. 

"It's quite uncomfortable, if you're asking," John stated. 

"I was not interested, but thanks for the gen." Michael put his hands on the saddle from the back. "I will push you and you will lead the way." 

"But I don't kn-" John didn't get to finish his sentence, when Michael started to nudge the bike with force and John had to be careful about where is he riding. 

At first, he was quite anxious about it, but just after ten minutes, he was circling around Michael with an honest smile plastered across his face.

"Now, was it that hard?" Michael mocked.

"Shut up," John barked and got off from the saddle. "It was fun, of course, but it would be for better to return it back." Michael nodded and took the bicycle by one handle. 

After the bike was in its place, Michael smiled. "I'm glad you enjoyed your first ride. Now, read next one!"

"Go to an American pub. Michael, I'm not getting arseholed tonight. We have a show tomorrow, do you remember?"

"I'm surprised that _you_ remember, since you were conplaining even about the tour, when we were still in England," Michael snorted. "Let's go, it's just one-time thingy." 

John doesn't remember that he would agree on that. But somehow, he found himself in a tiny local pub on a small bender. He remembers just a few drinks and Michael finally stopping him and leading him back to the hotel. 

"Th-that was fun," slurred John. 

"How come that you're this pissed, when you had only... five beers?" 

"I'm not. B-but my voca... vocabu..." 

"Vocabulary?" 

"That's lotta smaller." 

Michael laughed and led John through the hotel to his room as silently as he could. "I think that's a problem of most of the people in your state. Now, give me your keys." Michael was taken aback by John, who - without a single word - gave him the keys. Usually, he would argue about every action he was told to do, but Michael's presence had apparently an effect on him. 

As soon as Michael opened the door, John took a path straight to the bathroom. The nice guy he's taken as, Michael hurried after his friend and held him back a tad, when his head was hanging over the loo seat. "Next time you're this steaming, I'm not going to hold your head out of the toilet. I'm gonna let you drown," said Michael, more to himself than to John. 

He sat on a chair across to John, who was laying on the bed, falling asleep soundly. Michael didn't know whether to lay down next to him, but he decided against it, since waking up is always the worst thing in the morning after being shitfaced. He ended up sleeping on the chair. 

Michael did good, when he didn't sleep next to John. In the morning, John had an ungrateful headache, but thanks to Michael being by his side, he could manage to survive through the breakfast with other Pythons. He didn't want to talk about the night, until their free time in the afternoon. The Pythons were preparing themselves for their massive show in the city. Except John and Michael - they prepared themselves right after the breakfast, so they didn't have to do anything later (and to avoid questions of the others, too). 

"Do you want to... continue with that list? I think there's one more think to make you better," asked Michael. John looked up from his magazine and pierced Michael with an angry look. "Oh, come on, it wasn't that bad!" 

"Okay, okay, if it will make you happy, I remember there's the thing with eating a whole watermelon by yourself." 

Michael's sly smile made shivers go up John's spine. "There was a shop down the street. Care to go with me?" 

"Your idea, your quest for it," snickered John and loosened up on the bed. Michael muttered some swear words under his breath, but since John was technically right, he had to go for the fruit. 

However, as soon as he stepped out of John's apartment, he was attacked by his fellow, Terry Jones. "Mike! So how's it going with that tosser of ours? Is he in a mood he can play the show in?" 

Michael almost fell and it took him a while to answer, for he was still lost for breath at Terry's unexpected reveal. "And do you expect me to be his psychologist? He's all hunky-dory, but he can't get out the thought of dullness, I think. A tad of a fun and rest is what he needs. Just don't bother us later; I'm helping him with the entertaining part." And with the last word, Michael was gone out of the hotel and with a jolly face stepped in the shop he saw that morning. He wasn't afraid of being recognized, because not so many people knew, who the Pythons were, let alone what exactly did they look like. So, as he was paying for his purchase, the shop assistant only gave him a smile and went on with her business. 

On his way back, he nicked a knife from a trolley and for the fear of being caught, he ran for his life back to John's hotel room. 

"Look, who it is!" exclaimed Michael as soon as John opened the door for him. "And I have something for ya, old chap." He didn't even look at the tall man and went straight for the bed, where he laid the watermelon. "When are you going to repay me the four dollars I saved for this special occasion?" 

"Well, it was a special occasion, you said it. So, there's no need in repaying it, since you knew exactly what you're buying," answered John in a diplomatic manner. Michael glanced at him, his eyes shimmering with emulousness. 

"Okay, John, I don't think you will need help with splitting the watermelon, so I'll just stay here," said Michael plainly, getting back to inspecting the book he saw on John's desk earlier. 

"Watch me getting stuffed. I know you're jealous that you can't have even a little seed from this," provoked John and gave his friend a fake laugh. 

"I hope you choke on that one watermelon seed," scoffed Michael, but turned his head towards John and laughed as he put the first piece in his mouth. 

It took John probably about half an hour until he slowly chewed on the last chunk of the fruit. Then he laid on the bed, sighing. "I don't feel very well physically, but emotionally, I'm feeling better. It's great to have you around, Mike." 

"Just 'better'? Oh, don't tell me that," Michael protested and went straight after John. "I thought it would help you get up and dance!" 

"Don't be ridiculous! First; I don't dance. But, secondly, you can't expect me to be happy after doing a few tasks written by you. It's your list and I had a lot of fun, but... you know how it is." 

"Well, take off your shirt then." 

John was taken aback by Michael's statement. He wasn't entirely sure about his friend's idea - most of the time, he was right about not trusting Michael (in spite he did trust him and completed the objectives written by that drat from Yorkshire). "Not another one of your ideas, Michael, no." 

"I'm offering you a massage, I don't know what's on _your_ mind, Cleese," laughed the younger man. 

The taller man retorted. "It was yer idea to get me in troubles and now it's time for you to repay me." They both laughed loudly, Michael still standing, but John motioned for Michael to sit on the edge of the bed next to him. As he was told, John took off his striped T-shirt, turned on his stomach, and so Michael started working his way from John's shoulders. 

Michael's fingers carefully pressed on John's skin, his nails creating a light pressure, while he was telling John about his travelling dreams. _He could be so passionate about venturing and holding a pint at the same time, and it would be still impressive and cute,_ thought John, while looking forward at a picture hanging on a wall. However, he still couldn't take his mind off of Michael's movements and how gentle it all felt. Almost like a dream. 

It was quite a while before Michael quieted down and stopped at John's lower back. He was possibly contemplating, if John would stop him or not. He decided that he should leave it here and just wait. 

"Okay, I think you had your fun on the back. Shall I move to the front?" questioned Michael, cracking his fingers.

"Well, I don't know, what do you want to massage here, but you can give it a try, I guess," responded John and turned on his back, closing his eyes again. Michael carefully moved his hands over John's torso, pushing at his ribs. John wasn't ticklish, so it was easier for him to press down.

Michael's right hand was ghosting over John's shoulder, while his left hand moved lower and lower, until it reached the button of his jeans and started to tug on it.

It took only a second for John to open his eyes and shoot his hand to stop Michael. "Woah, Mike, what the bloody hell are you doing?"

Instead of answering, Michael just smiled and moved to kneel on John's abdomen, all while trying to take John's trousers off. When he succeeded, he pushed them from John's long legs, leaving the six-footer only in his underwear.

Looking directly into John's eyes, Michael leaned in closer. "John, can I kiss you?" The youngster was a tad nervous asking his friend for something so intimate as this, but he felt that John needed to be comforted, or at least showed some passion. He expected John to say no, and even if he did get the permission to give him a kiss, nothing will come out of it. Or that's what Michael thought; John had different ideas.

John's eyes closed again as he nodded and Michael, full of excitement by now, closed the small gap between their lips, eliciting a short and deep moan from the taller man. Michael enjoyed having the control over John and that the cause of the sounds he was making, was Michael. No one else; not Connie, not any other girl John had, but it was his best friend, with whom he was a part of a comedian group. And now, they were practically snogging, which wasn't something John would've thought he would do or even enjoy.

But there he was, with Michael's mouth on his - not moving an inch - and his hand slowly reaching for Michael's lower back.

Michael backed off immediately, when he felt John's hand. "I see you begging for-"

"Not begging, Mike," John argued. Michael expected him to disagree on everything, what would make him lose the manipulative power, but this situation didn't play in John's favour.

"Let me finish, will you?" Michael laughed. "Do you want me to..."

"I... I think so, if it's what you want and wouldn't care to do it."

"God Blimey, Brits and our gentleman code." Michael leaned in again and kissed John once again, before he moved down.

 

Behind the door of John's hotel room sounded a noise, not audible to Michael and John at the moment. Graham Chapman falling to the side thanks to Eric Idle, who pushed him.

"That one almost hurt, Eric!" he said. Eric put his forefinger on his lips, indicating for Graham to shut up, and stoked his ear to the door. "Can't you just look through the keyhole?" asked Graham, this time more quietly.

"What if I see something I don't want to see?" grinned Eric.

"Then you should step aside and make a room for an expert," grumbled the blonde.

"What makes _you_ the expert?"

"Do you really want to find out?" Eric fought back a sound of discontent and regressed to Graham. "I can't really see anything, just John's upper body laying on his bed with closed eyes. He's got stiffled movement, and I'm not afraid to say he's having time with his hand, would you agree?"

"God, I don't want to hear that, Gray. I have enough with you and your own luck," Eric disagreed and turned his head away dramatically. This made Graham crack a smile for he loved being controversial, even if it was with his close friends.

"I don't se Mike anywhere, though. Are you really sure he is with him?"

"Now that you mentioned it, I'm not quite sure. I saw him nicking a knife from the hall while carrying a watermelon, that's all. Maybe he took it to his room, not John's."

"Can be. I'm still quite curious about what has Mike done to John that he listens to only him."

"That's an affair, for sure," Graham and Eric both grinned at the same time, not having a slightest idea about being right about Michael and John, and wandered off to Terry J.'s room to play cards.

 

Michael's shirt was now discarded on the side of John's bed, and Michael himself was trying not to look too much excited about his best friend giving him a permission to give him a head. Not that he had an experience with this, but he imagined a few times, how was it like. From what he involuntary heard from Graham, you feel vulnerable, when you're the unfortunate one giving it, but once you see the expression of the receiver, you realize you have all of the power to do everything with the person.

John wasn't any different; his face showed visible nervousness at first, but slowly came to realization that he should let Mike do what he wants to do. As far as he knew, neither Michael or him have done such a thing, and everyone knows first times are the best to experience with your best friend...

John let out a quiet moan, when he came, and while breathing deeply, he reached out for Michael to lay back next to him. Michael stayed still, deciding whether to face John or make up an excuse and dart out of the room as fast as he can. But he wouldn't do the latter. After all; he had a feeling that he might be quite fond of the older man, too.

Michael put back on his shirt and laid his head next to John's. "It's a kind of-" started John, but his words were quickly replaced by Michael's.

"Revelation? I mean that you _do_ like me and not in a friendly way?" John was almost jealous of the youngster and his speaking skills, even after what they've done. He slowly nodded and his hand travelled to Michael's. 

"How did you-" 

"Know that you wouldn't disagree?" Michael stopped his sentence to hold John's hand even tighter. "I have eyes, John. Otherwise I wouldn't ask you for a permission to do such a thing." 

"I mean is it-" 

"That visible? It is fairly blatant. I get asked by Jonesy and Eric quite often, if we had an argument that you're giving me looks." 

"I've never even realised... Sorry, Mike. But would we - and you, Palin, stop with finishing my sentences - do... this without me looking at you all spaced-out?" 

"That's a fact, Cleese, I wouldn't," answered Michael and exhaled deeply. "I should probably go and prepare for the show." 

" _Or_ you can stay and help me prepare, because I don't think I'll be able to get up. Blimey, Michael Palin just sucked me off. How many girls are longing to be in your position." 

"It should be vice versa; them giving _me_ the pleasure you just received, behave like that!" Michael said playfully and laid still next to John, still holding hands. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you have any questions, comments appraising my work or helping me improve it, go ahead and write it; I always appreciate constructive criticism or a simple kind word.


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